


The Vampire Stalker

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Basically everyone has a roll, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Supernatural Elements, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: John Laurens never thought attempting to escort a touchy man at the strip club would result in him being thrown into a supernatural turmoil between different species of vampires.He also never expected to find himself intertwined with the fates of two vampires who held power over him that exceeded the abilities of immortals.





	1. Chapter 1

_      There was a silence as the little girl stepped towards him, the only sound his heavy breath and the steps of the child. No, he realized with horror. The girl looked like a child, sounded like a child, but she was certainly not a child.  _

_      She was so much older, and if it weren't for the glimmer in her eyes, a fiery passion for the act she was about to perform, he would have gotten to him much sooner. Her movements were slow, drawn out. She was playing with him.  _

_      He continued to scoot backwards, his back hitting softly against concrete. A wall. His fingers held tight to the soaking flesh against his fingers.  _

_      She was in front of him now, her nails sharpening to a point as she raked them down his face, leaving another bloody trail. Unable to smother that glint, she allowed it to grow, the fire consuming his body as he lost the battle. _

 

    John Laurens had a tough day at work. Every day was quite difficult, actually, but this one. . . oh boy did it take the cake. 

     “Hey, John, you look a little out of it, love.” John's sister was staring up at him from under dark lashes, fluttering them in an attempt to get him to confide. He smiled.

     “I'm fine, hon. Bad day at work.” 

    She muttered something under her breath about how being a photographer can't be  _ that  _ bad, and he ignored it. He took another drink from the glass, letting his lips linger on the edge, his tongue slipping against his finger where he held the glass. 

     “John, sweetie, you seem out of it. Do you need me to call one of the Schuyler's?” John shook his head after a moment of delay. The last thing he needed was for Eliza or, worse,  _ Angelica  _ to scold him for not taking care of himself. John hadn't eaten for a week, hadn't showered for a few days, and most of all hadn't slept for more than a few hours in a  _ month. _

     “John, honey,” hands were placed on top of his. You need to stop doing this to yourself.”

     John wanted to sink away, yell at her for being insistent. But all he could do was feel guilty and meet her wide dark eyes. 

     “I'm _fine,_ Martha,” he forced out, gripping his hands together. She removed hers, looking hurt. He winced. He only called her Martha when he was mad or overemotional and she knew it. Stumbling, she went over to the phone behind the bar. Her hands were trembling, he noted idly.

    “I'm calling Eliza,” she said, and her voice came out forceful. No room for objections. He sighed, almost slamming his head against the counter. 

     “Hey, lady, can I have my drink now? It's been twenty fucking minutes.”

     John slammed his drink against the bar, glowering in the dark room in the direction of the voice. “She's not your fucking maid, so shut the fuck up.” 

     There was the squeak of a bar stood skimming across the  wooden floor, and everyone fell into a pregnant silence. “What the fuck was that, pretty boy?”

     A buff man with dark skin and dark eyes glared down at him, lips drawing up. John sighed, spinning in his stood before standing. He only went up to his chest, and John found himself puffing up, drawing back like a snake about to launch for his prey. 

    Then, like a siren in the fog, “John Laurens, sit the fuck down.”  _ Angelica. _

__ He felt himself stiffen, slowly turning. The man began laughing, loud snorts of laughter that disgusted John. “Are you her bitch,  _ ese? _ ”

     John inhaled, looking at Martha, who smiled nervously. Hercules was behind Angelica, towering over her. 

    “You're fucking with me, right? You need a whole girl gang to back you up?”

     “Back the fuck up, Angie, this guy deserves whatever he gets.”

     “Laurens. You don't want to do this here. Not now. Come on. Your sister doesn't want to see you do this right now.”

     “Back up, lady, your friend is going to get--”

     “Was I  _ talking  _ to you? No? Then shut the actual fuck up.” Angelica slid her arm under his, coaxing him out. “Let's go.” John jerked away, deciding he could walk himself out. Outside, the crisp air heightened his senses, blowing away some of the buzz.

     Aurora and Eliza were sitting in the van, chatting in the middle row, and if John wasn't as intoxicated as he was, he would have complained that Angelica didn’t  _ need  _ to take Aurora to this place. He only came here to watch out for Martha. But, it seemed, she always ended up taking care of him. Hercules led him to the back and layered him in a blanket, muttering about calling him off tomorrow.

_ “No,”  _ he tried to say.  _ “No, Washington wouldn't like that.”  _ But he was ignored, or maybe he didn't say it as well or understandable as he had hoped. 

      He tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “John?” Aurora's voice was quiet, shy, but he knew it was there. He hummed, not trusting his voice. Angie would beat his head in if he snapped at her, or scared her in any way.

     He sighed as he felt her eyes studying him, and cracked an eye open. Her curls bounced against her face, soft, and her lips slightly turned upwards in an awkward smile. Her eyed seemed to flip between shades, but right now they were green. Neutral. A safe place to John. A place to confide. 

     “I'm waiting for you to say something sarcastic,” John said quietly. The alcohol made him bold, and angry. Everyone knew this, and avoided talking to him during a phase. Not Aurora. She walked a balance beam, not caring if she fell over to his side of things.

     “Not really. I just like watching you.”

     “That was creepy.”

     “I'm aware.”

     “That's nice. It's good to be. . . aware.”

     “Uh-huh. You cut your lip. And your knuckles are bloody. I thought you didn't get in a fight.”

     “It was earlier. At work.”

     Aurora handed him a tissue, subtle and with ease. Knowing not to ask about John’s  _ work _ . She winked. “A gentleman always carries a handkerchief and a pocket knife.”

     John stared, long and silent. She wouldn't tell anyone about this small conversation. Eliza was sleeping against the seat, and Angelica had her earbuds in as Hercules blasted his music. They were the only two close enough to hear the exchange. 

     John smiled, releasing the tension from his shoulders. She smiled too, brightening the vehicle considerably. 

    “Hey,” she smiled. “I see that you're looking a little bit more sober. Your eyes aren't as glassy. Although, those could have been tears for all I know?”

      “Shut up, Aurora.”

      “Alright. I can do that.”

      That lasted about two minutes, and she let her mouth run until Hercules pulled up at Angie's house. “Come on, baby, we can't talk to grumpy Johnson.” Angelica said as she lifted Aurora up, one arm under her knees and another under her neck, walking to their door. They slowly pulled away, John pushing himself beside Eliza into the seat. John grumbled and Hercules sniggered. 

     “They're so cute.”

     “Yeah, fucking adorable.” He complained. Herc shot him a Don't-Be-Grumpy-Because-You’re-Lonely look through the rearview mirror, frowning before lowering the volume of his music and continuing. 

      “Fuck off,” he mumbled, slightly quieter due to the small girl against the window, eyes clasped shut. “Where are you taking me?” John whined, throwing his head back. 

     Hercules sighed. “My house. We're taking Eliza home and then you're staying home with me. Besides,” Hercules shot a look towards Eliza before continuing more quietly, “I haven't seen my boyfriend in a while.”

      John sighed, drawing out the small breath. He was silent, listening to the sound the car made against the pavement. “So what happened, John. You're never this temperamental.”

     He sighed, opening his eyes and raking a hand through his untamed dark curls. 

      “This guy was being really creepy. Hitting on the girls, and trying to touch them--even other customers. It was like he was prowling. I got with one of the other guys and we tried to pull him back but he--he pushed us and ran out before anyone else could do anything. He was fucking fast, Herc. Freaked us all out, a couple of dancers even threatened to quit if they didn't close early. 

     “John . . . that doesn't explain why you were bleeding so much.” 

     “He knocked us into a table.” John sighed, rubbing his palms over his face. “Baby, look, you need to get some rest and blow off that alcohol.”

     “Alright. Herc?”

     “Yeah?”

     “Thanks. I know I can be an ass, and I appreciate it.”

      “No problem hon, I deal with asses all day, pun unintended.”

     “Wake me up when we get to your house.” John groaned, laughing at his boyfriend. He closed his eyes, head burning at the thought of the hangover that awaited him.


	2. Chapter 2

_ “Laurens?” John gazed across the table at another man who was taller by a head, dark skin seeming darker in the dark lighting, his head holding almost nothing. John would have laughed if he hadn’t looked worried. “What's up?” _

_     “There’s this guy, he looks like he's trying to touch the dancers. He's a real creep. A big guy.”  _

_      John sighed, shaking his head. They got guys like this sometimes. Guys who thought because they could buy a lap dance that their people were prostitutes.  _

_      “Just let me tell Washington,” he said, fisting the rag in this hand and waving at Aaron to follow him. George was standing behind the bar, talking to the bartender about something. Arguing. He rolled his eyes. Poor Charles. Wasn't going to last long anyway, nobody liked him. _

_      “George, hey, some guy is over there trying to touch the girls so I'm gonna check it out.” He was waved away.  _

_      John, albeit rather timidly, strode across to where a man stood with large hands on a woman's hips. She was moving in lazy circles, like she didn't realize she was being touched.  _

_      “I'll grab her, just hold him back.” John stepped in, his arms eloping the woman as he pulled her off stage. The man groaned as Aaron pushed him back.  _

_      John handed her off to another dancer, giving the order to take the woman to her dressing room. John held the man also, wrapping his arms around one arm while Burr held the other. He tried to swerve him towards the door, but the man jerked his arms, and Burr stumbled back.  _

_      Laurens wasn’t as lucky, and in a swerve of hips and elbows was sent toppling a few feet away, the man's fingers cutting into his side. His knuckles smacked against the table. It snapped under his weight, and he smacked hard against the ground, pieces of the table cutting into his sides and face.  _

__

_ Beep! Beep! Beep! _

__ Laurens rolled to his side at the noise that had interrupted his recap of the night, his wide brown eyes staring at the numbers. His head ached, pounding against the corners of his mind. 

     The bed wrapped around him, and he was in his pajamas. He recalled faintly stumbling in and barely kicking off his clothes. 

     It was one in the afternoon already? John felt nauseous and stuck with pain. Deciding it was best to shower, he stood up. The pain in his body sent him limping and leaning against the walls, pulling himself into the large bathroom. Hercules was a designer. He made enough to afford a large house, unlike John. 

     “Whew. Aren't you pretty today?” John laughed at himself as he stared at his body in the mirror. His chest was bruised, and his neck and face were covered in small scratches and markings, but his back and thighs were the worst: stuck with exceedingly large bruises and red markings.

     John had one large scar that curved around his bicep, others circles that showed up peppered around his stomach and arms. Those weren't from the fight. Easily hid with makeup, of course. 

__ He sighed, drawing his fingertips over his bicep; curling them into a fist. There was a sting in his fist as he did so, but he ignored it.

      leaning down to turn the water on, the dull ache in his back became sharp. Surprised, he jerked back, his hand holding the place where he had fallen. “Fuck,” he murmured. The bruise seemed to have stretched, dark coils wrapping around his spine. John flinched, ignoring it nonetheless. 

     Turning, he bit his lip as he forced himself to get into the shower. 

__

_ “What the hell is this?” Henry Laurens chucked sheets of paper across John's bed, and the awaken boy sat up and stared at the furious man. His face paled as he focused on the papers. They were him with a boy from school. The boy's hair was neatly pinned back, and his eyes were bright. One hand held a can of some beverage, while the other wrapped around another's. John's hand. _

_      Stumbling for some kind of response, he attempted to gathered the papers. More shots of him and this other boy. Henry's hands came up, gripping at John's hair and arms as he yanked him from bed. Curly hair was in a flurry around him, an unruly mess as he was pulled from bed.  _

_      The smell of cigars were thick in his nostrils as he was forced into the water time after time, his hair sticking to his face as he surfaced, even harder to get air. He was drowning in his own bathtub, cigar ash on his skin as it was lit and unlit time after time until it was a stub.  _

 

     “John! Hey, John! You okay in there?!”

     John let out a sharp gasp, snapping out of the thought that had finally come to surface. He stumbled, flipping off the cold water; nearly falling from the shower. Snatching up the towel, he wrapped it around his waist before slamming open the door with a start. 

     “You good?” Hercules asked, hands on both sides of the smaller man's cheeks. He nodded, or at least tried to with Hercules's hands on his face.

     “Yeah, yeah. I was just getting dressed for . . .” What  _ was  _ he getting dressed for? Work? Work, he decided.

__ “Work. I have to take the late shift.”

      “John . . . I'm not sure you should. I haven't had the chance to call Washington, but I just don't think you should.”

     John let his fingers linger on Hercules's hands. “I’ll be okay. I promise. I'm just a little anxious because my back is a little sore and I don't want to hold anyone back. I'll ask Washington if he'll keep me on tables tonight, alright?”

     Hercules slowly relented, his hands drawing away from his face. “Promise me you won't do anything  _ risky.” _

__ By risky he meant private dances, John assumed. Security teams got bribed a lot, so the dancers more than often had to take things into their own hands; though it was more often than not handsy older gentlemen that were easily restrained and promptly escorted out. All one would need to do would be to push on that one spot and he could be overpowered. 

     “Yeah, yeah, got it. No risky things.” John spun around to grab his clothes, and Hercules set a hand on his back. Pain shot up John's back and he inwardly winced. “This looks bad,” Hercules said, the heat of his fingertips melting through his skin. “Hurts,” Laurens said as he released the towel, pulling on one of Hercules's shirts. It fell off his thin frame, reaching his knees. 

     “You're so cute,” Hercules smiled at John's momentarily clueless stare. “Get outta here,” he blushed, pushing him away. Hercules laughed, turning away. 

     “So do you think there will be a new bartender?” Hercules asked from the other side of the door.

     John paused, furrowing his brows. “What do you mean?”

     “Lee got caught stealing. From what Burr tells me after they closed he got it pretty bad.”

     “Aaron says a lot of things that aren't true. You shouldn't use him as a reliable resource.” John rolled his shoulders, sighing as the stiff muscle relaxed considerably. Jealousy boiled in his gut at the thought of his friend talking to  _ Mr. Burr  _ as he slept. 

     “That’s a . . . good point. I wish I could have been there.”

     John frowned, opening the door forcibly. “No, you don't. You were having a good time with Peggy.” John tried to not act like a child, but Hercules was always making excuses on nights he was supposed to help John out.  _ Always. And he's been taking more time to be with Peggy. _

     “John . . .” Hercules stood, brushing his fingers over John's cheek. “You're more important to me than Peggy, and you know it.” Hercules allowed John to burrow under his arms, and he kissed the boy's forehead. 

     “You always ditch me when I work,” John said quietly. He felt Hercules's chest rumble with laughter, a gentle hand resting on his head. 

     “Oh, honey. That's because I don't like to think about everyone looking at my baby.” 

     “ ‘M not a baby.” He mumbled from against the man's chest. Another vibration followed, and Hercules's knuckles rolled against his back; a slow, comforting motion.

     A loud knock caused John to jump, letting out a small whimper. Hercules groaned, taking John's hand and moving with him. “That's probably the pizza man,” Hercules murmured as he pulled John onto his back. John giggled, kicking his feet. 

     “I’m going to have to answer the door,” Herc warned as he tromped down the stairs, John bouncing against his body. Both were breathless with laughter by the time he got down the large thirty-step stairs. 

     More uncontrollable laughter followed as Hercules spun him down, one hand on the handle as he turned it, the other hand finding John's neck and pulling him close enough to meet their lips together. They were still pressed together as Hercules pulled the door open. 

     “How much do I--” Hercules pulled away so fast Laurens became dizzy, falling on his ass against the carpeted stairs. John glared, but all he saw was Hercules frozen in the doorway, his eyes trained through the open door. 

     It was the pizza man, unbothered by Hercules's glower. “Uh, sorry,” Hercules removed the money from his wallet, and John realized that he was trembling. 

     The pizza man didn't look very threatening. In fact, John was pretty sure he was only a slight bit shorter than this one. 

     “Thank you, have a nice day,” the man chimed, smiling. John forced a smile back, uncomfortable with the lingering eye contact.

      Hercules snapped out of his trance as John dropped the pizza onto the table. He seemed to be uncomfortable now, avoiding John's eyes. “What-- _what hell was_ _that?”_ John asked, a cold shiver pulsing down his spine. He didn't like that face Hercules had donned. Defenseless, small, almost as if he was _scared._

_ That doesn't even make sense, he's just the goddamn pizza man.  _

     “Hercules Mulligan, baby, are you well enough to take me to work after we eat?”

     There was a pause, and dark eyes flashed to him. The man forced a smile, John could tell instantly. He squinted, dark eyes scanning for information. He got none. 

     “Honey, are you okay or do I need to call Washington?”

     John put a hand on the side of his boyfriend's face, tugging at his hair gently. The man released a sigh, his body slumping slightly. His hand found John's against his jawbone, and he moved it over to his lips, kissing each finger. It took him a moment to comprehend, moving Herc’s fingers to his own lips and sucking in each digit. 

      “No, no, I'm good. We can go after we eat.” John was fine with a subject change, he had  _ other things  _ on his mind.

     He simply leaned in and took his lips between his own, working away at the built-up stress.

     “Better?” John asked in a small voice, slowly leaning off his tiptoes. Hercules smiled, giving a peck in return. 

     “Much.”

     He allowed Hercules to guide him over to the table, kissing a trail up his neck as they went. “Baby, honey, my _everything_ , if you keep kissing me I'm not going to be able to hold back and you have to _work._ You need to eat.”

     John caught Herc’s earlobe between his teeth, flicking his tongue across it.

     “Maybe I want to eat something else.” He purred, rubbing against him. He leaned closer, allowing his boyfriend to pull him into his lap.   
     "Bend me over on the table and fu--"   
     "JOHN ARE YOU HOOOME"

     The temptation to yell “no” almost overcame him, and he almost did until he heard the stomp of another pair of feet and thought better of it. 

     “We--” John's voice broke as Hercules landed a particularly well-placed kiss, “We're in here.”

    A matter of seconds later, Aurora tromped in followed by a irritated-looking Angelica. “Morning my sweet children!”

     Aurora paused to look at them both for a long moment, breaking off from her original train of thought. John's hair was a mess, slightly damp from the shower, his eyes were dull and his shirt was riding up his thighs.

      Hercules wasn't looking much better, dark hair stuck to his face while his large hands were placed firmly against John's inner thighs.

     “Well,” Angelica slung an arm over Aurora. “This is . . . new. Well now that the newly outed couple is fucking, we should get to our place and follow suit, since that's apparently what everyone is doing.”

     “Wait! No, no, it's good.  _ We’re good. _ Did you need something? To where you had to drive  _ all the way across town.”  _

      “Aurora wanted to give you a ride to work.”

     “How did you know I’d be at Herc’s?” John asked, sliding off the table. He all but glared at Aurora.  _ What a cockblock. _

__ “Eliza,” the two answered in realization. Both sighed, shaking their heads.

     “So want a ride to work?” Aurora asked, hanging off of the other. He sighed, shaking his head as he glanced at Herc who waved him off. 

     “Yeah, babe, go ahead. I'll be fine.”

     “Well I . . . I need my clothes.”

     Angelica gripped his arm, then Aurora's. “In the car. There's some in the car.” Giving a sheepish smile, he nodded and followed them out, letting out a yawn. _I'm feeling a little tired all of the sudden._

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be going through the emotions that John is feeling, so it was intentionally written as a rollercoaster of a chapter, and next chapter will be a clearer since he's working through his buzz.


End file.
